Dawn light began stealing
Through the cold universe to County Meath,

Over weirs where the Boyne water, fulgent, darkling,
Turns its thick axle, over rick-sized stones
Millennia deep in their own unmoving

And unmoved alignment.

(from A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney)

Winter Solstice is the turning point I look forward to each year. The day after my daughter’s birthday, it is a lovely mid-winter reassurance that the light is coming. Solstice is derived from the Latin, sōlstitium, loosely translated as the apparent standing still of the sun. To ancient civilizations, it looked like the sun stood still at that moment when its rays shine directly over the Tropic of Capricorn, 23 degrees south of the Equator.

The importance of this astronomical event to the ancient Celts is reflected in a massive neolithic tomb in Newgrange, Ireland. In 2021, for the first time, due to COVID restrictions, anyone with internet access could enter the tomb, a place even older than Stonehenge and the Pyramids in Gaza, and observe the phenomenon. A lottery determines who will enter the chamber and experience the phenomenon as it was intended by our Stone Age ancestors, the farmers who created it about 5,200 years ago.  In its roof is a little opening aligned to the ascending sun. When that single sunbeam shoots through the roof-box at around 9AM, it illuminates for seventeen minutes the burial chamber below, highlighting the geometric shapes carved in the ancient walls.  It is a magic time, long before clocks and calendars and compasses measured time and the distance between us, signifying the turn towards a new year.

Newgrange appeals to sun worshippers and archeologists, ethnographers and tourists, astronomers and poets, and ordinary people like you and me. In the year before the pandemic changed everything, only 16 out of 30,000 applicants from as far away as the United States, were selected to experience the spectacle of solstice at Newgrange.

Unfortunately, Irish weather provides no guarantee of sunlight, and clouds often keep the light out for those waiting for the longest night of the year to end, as was the case this morning for most of the seventeen minutes during which the chamber can be illuminated. With only a few minutes to go, the clouds parted just enough for a sliver of sunlight inside the chamber where only 16 out of 18,500 lottery entrants were granted access.

Magic time. 

It is a time when the ancients speak to us, reassuring us that no matter how dark the days, the cycle will always begin again. There’s light on the horizon.

---

Far from Newgrange, on the sunny shores of Lake Chapala in Mexico, such rituals abound. The legacy of pre-Columbian civilizations can be viewed in a ceremony on the waterfront almost daily. La Danza de  los Voladores originated in the Totonacapan region of Veracruz, which in 2009 boasted 38 of the 56 remaining volador poles officially recorded in Mexico. First written about in 1612 by  Franciscan chronicler, Fray Jaun de Torquemadam, the ritual is a testimony to the tenacity of indigenous groups in adapting their customs and practices to the new order imposed by the Spanish and also in ensuring they live on from one generation to the next.

A handful of onlookers on the Ajijic malecon pause for a moment to watch, smart phones at the ready to record as the voladores, in  traditional costume, begin their solemn procession to a 30m high pole between two trees. One by one, four men climb the pole to reach its summit, where they are closer to the sun god, each of them representing the cardinal points as well as the elements.

All is quiet until a haunting melody begins as the leader, the caporal, hoists himself up to perch atop a tiny wooden platform, the tecomate. Bending, balancing, hopping from one foot to the other, he plays his flute and beats on a tiny drum, turning to face north, south, east, and west, while the pole below him sways precariously in the breeze.  No harness. No safety net. Only faith.

Then the moment we have all been waiting for – the flyers hurl themselves into the air. Headfirst, arms outstretched like wings, they allow the thin ropes tying them to the platform to unravel as they spin in ever-widening circles around the pole, streamers the color of the rainbow trailing behind them in the sky. The plaintive tune continues during their majestic descent, each man hoping to make 13 circuits – 52 representing the number of years on the Aztec calendar – imploring the gods to return the sun. Right before reaching the ground, a final flourish – a quick somersault. Legend has it that if they land on their feet, the Mayan gods will be pleased and bless us with longer days.

Mortals again, they land softly to quiet utterances of ‘bravo’ from a small group of spectators who know they just witnessed something sacred, something from another time, for all time. Legend has it that if they land on their feet, the Mayan gods will be pleased and bless us with longer days.

Perhaps it is an act of faith that brings us together to celebrate an ancient light show in a tomb in Ireland or a sky dance above a magical town in Mexico. Together, on sacred ground, we are connected to  the past and the future.

Let’s look forward now to brighter days and all good things to come, voladores, arms outstretched.

Happy Solstice 2024. 

Dawn light began stealing
Through the cold universe to County Meath,

Over weirs where the Boyne water, fulgent, darkling,
Turns its thick axle, over rick-sized stones
Millennia deep in their own unmoving

And unmoved alignment.

(from A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney)

Winter Solstice is the turning point I look forward to each year. The day after my daughter’s birthday, it is a lovely mid-winter reassurance that the light is coming. Solstice is derived from the Latin, sōlstitium, loosely translated as the apparent standing still of the sun. To ancient civilizations, it looked like the sun stood still at that moment when its rays shine directly over the Tropic of Capricorn, 23 degrees south of the Equator.

The importance of this astronomical event to the ancient Celts is reflected in  a massive neolithic tomb in Newgrange, Ireland. In 2021, for the first time, due to COVID restrictions, anyone with internet access could enter the tomb, a place even older than Stonehenge and the Pyramids in Gaza, and observe the phenomenon. A lottery determines who will enter the chamber and experience the phenomenon as it was intended by our Stone Age ancestors, the farmers who created it about 5,200 years ago.  In its roof is a little opening aligned to the ascending sun. When that single sunbeam shoots through the roof-box at around 9AM, it illuminates for seventeen minutes the burial chamber below, highlighting the geometric shapes carved in the ancient walls.  It is a magic time, long before clocks and calendars and compasses measured time and the distance between us, signifying the turn towards a new year.

Newgrange appeals to sun worshippers and archeologists, ethnographers and tourists, astronomers and poets, and ordinary people like you and me. In the year before the pandemic changed everything, only 16 out of 30,000 applicants from as far away as the United States, were selected to experience the spectacle of solstice at Newgrange. Unfortunately, Irish weather provides no guarantee of sunlight, and clouds often keep the light out for those waiting for the longest night of the year to end.   But this morning, for the few who won the lottery to attend, the sun broke through the clouds and the chamber lit up briefly.  The rest of us can watch online the astronomical phenomenon that marks the shortest day and the longest night of the year. 

It is a time when the ancients speak to us, reassuring us that no matter how dark the days, the cycle will always begin again. There’s light on the horizon.

This morning, I am far away from Newgrange, at home on the shores of Lake Chapala in Mexico. Such rituals are all around. The legacy of pre-Columbian civilizations can be viewed in a ceremony on the waterfront almost daily – La Danza de  los Voladores, the origins of which  are attributed to the Totonacapan region of Veracruz, which in 2009 boasted 38 of the 56 volador poles officially recorded in Mexico. First written about in 1612 by Franciscan chronicler, Fray Jaun de Torquemadam, the ritual is a powerful testimony to the tenacity of indigenous groups in adapting their customs and practices to the new order imposed by the Spanish and also in ensuring they live on from one generation to the next.

Far from Newgrange, on the sunny shores of Lake Chapala in Mexico, such rituals abound. The legacy of pre-Columbian civilizations can be viewed in a ceremony on the waterfront almost daily. La Danza de  los Voladores originated in the Totonacapan region of Veracruz, which in 2009 boasted 38 of the 56 remaining volador poles officially recorded in Mexico. First written about in 1612 by  Franciscan chronicler, Fray Jaun de Torquemadam, the ritual is a testimony to the tenacity of indigenous groups in adapting their customs and practices to the new order imposed by the Spanish and also in ensuring they live on from one generation to the next.

A handful of onlookers on the Ajijic malecon pause for a moment to watch, smart phones at the ready to record as the voladores, in  traditional costume, begin their solemn procession to a 30m high pole between two trees. One by one, four men climb the pole to reach its summit, where they are closer to the sun god, each of them representing the cardinal points as well as the elements.

All is quiet until a haunting melody begins as the leader, the caporal, hoists himself up to perch atop a tiny wooden platform, the tecomate. Bending, balancing, hopping from one foot to the other, he plays his flute and beats on a tiny drum, turning to face north, south, east, and west, while the pole below him sways precariously in the breeze.  No harness. No safety net. Only faith.

Then the moment we have all been waiting for – the flyers hurl themselves into the air. Headfirst, arms outstretched like wings, they allow the thin ropes tying them to the platform to unravel as they spin in ever-widening circles around the pole, streamers the color of the rainbow trailing behind them in the sky. The plaintive tune continues during their majestic descent, each man hoping to make 13 circuits – 52 representing the number of years on the Aztec calendar – imploring the gods to return the sun. Right before reaching the ground, a final flourish – a quick somersault. Legend has it that if they land on their feet, the Mayan gods will be pleased and bless us with longer days.

Mortals again, they land softly to quiet utterances of ‘bravo’ from a small group of spectators who know they just witnessed something sacred, something from another time, for all time. Legend has it that if they land on their feet, the Mayan gods will be pleased and bless us with longer days.

 

It is perhaps an act of faith that brings us together to celebrate an ancient light show in a tomb in Ireland or a sky dance above a magical town in Mexico. Together, on sacred ground, we are connected to  the past and the future.

As sunlight flooded the ancient chamber in Newgrange, a livestream cohost whispered. “The long night is over. Let’s look forward now to brighter days and all good things to come.”  

We too can take a spectacular leap, voladores, arms outstretched, to welcome the new year ahead.

Happy Solstice 2023. 

Dawn light began stealing
Through the cold universe to County Meath,

Over weirs where the Boyne water, fulgent, darkling,
Turns its thick axle, over rick-sized stones
Millennia deep in their own unmoving

And unmoved alignment.

(from A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney)

---

From the Latin, solstitium, the apparent standing still of the sun, the Winter Solstice is a turning point. The day after my daughter’s birthday, it is a lovely mid-winter reminder – a reassurance –  that the light will come.  Marked by ancient rituals that help us keep the faith and not necessarily in a god or in any religious doctrine, the Solstice is a reminder that something good is coming.  

In the Mexican village that I call home, such rituals abound, the legacy of pre-Columbian civilizations accessible to everyone in a ceremony on the waterfront almost daily – La Danza de  los Voladores. Its origins are attributed to the Totonacapan region of Veracruz, which in 2009 boasted 38 of the 56 volador poles officially recorded in Mexico. First written about in 1612 by Franciscan chronicler, Fray Jaun de Torquemadam, the ritual is a powerful testimony to the tenacity of indigenous groups in adapting their customs and practices to the new order imposed by the Spanish and also in ensuring they live on from one generation to the next.

A handful of onlookers on the Ajijic malecon pause for a moment to watch, smart phones at the ready. In dazzling red and white costumes  – the red signifying the heart of the sun – the bird-men are like birds. Circles and flowers embroidered on their clothing are like feathers; tiny mirrors sewn in the fabric catch the sunlight. They begin a solemn procession to the 99ft high pole between two trees, and one by one, four of them climb to its summit, where they will each be closer to the sun god, each of them representing the cardinal points as well as the elements.

A haunting melody slips into the air when a fifth, the caporal, hoists himself up on a tiny wooden platform, the tecomate, at the top. Bending, balancing, hopping from one foot to the other, he plays his flute and beats on a tiny drum, turning to face north, south, east, and west, following the rotation of the earth. The pole below him sways precariously in the breeze but there are no ropes supporting him, no harness, to safety net to catch him. One slip, and he falls to his death. 

Up there, the other bird-men sit around him, waiting. Then the dance begins. Headfirst, they hurl themselves into the sky their arms outstretched like wings as they allow the thin ropes tying them to the platform to unravel. Spinning in ever-widening circles around the pole, streamers the color of the rainbow trailing behind them, their descent is majestic. On their way back to earth, they will spiral thirteen times to reflect the fifty-two years in the Aztec calendar – imploring the gods to return the sun to us.

Legend has it that if they land on their feet, they will have pleased the Mayan gods and we will be rewarded with longer days. Confident, they perform a final flourish – a somersault – before returning to us as mere mortals again. The land softly to quiet ‘bravos‘ from spectators who know they have witnessed something sacred, something from another time, for all time. 

Far from Lake Chapala, in a massive neolithic tomb in Newgrange, Ireland, the Winter Solstice is being celebrated this morning. It is the first time visitors have been allowed into the chamber since 2019. It is also live-streamed – as it has been since COVID restrictions –  enabling anyone with an internet connection, from Meath to Mexico  to observe the Solstice phenomenon in a place older even than Stonehenge and the Pyramids.

In the roof of the chamber inside Newgrange is a little opening aligned to the ascending sun. When that single sunbeam shoots through the roof-box at around 9AM, it illuminates for seventeen minutes the burial chamber below, highlighting the geometric shapes carved in the ancient walls. 

It is a magic time, long before clocks and calendars and compasses measured time and the distance between us, signifying the turn towards a new year. It is a time when the ancients speak to us, reassuring us that no matter how dark the days, the cycle begins again.

An annual lottery  determines who may enters to experience the Solstice phenomenon the way its ancient architects intended,  the Stone Age farmers who created it some 5,000 years ago. This year, 12 lucky applicants from as far away as the United States, were selected to experience the spectacle of solstice at Newgrange – sun-worshippers and archeologists, ethnographers and tourists, and regular folks like you and me. Unfortunately, Irish weather provides no guarantee of sunlight, its cloudy skies often keeping the light out, but this morning, the sun obliged to make a brief appearance, offering just enough light to illuminate the tomb.

---

Maybe it’s an act of faith that brings us together to celebrate an ancient light show in an Irish tomb in Ireland or a sky dance above a pueblo mágico in Mexico. Together, on sacred ground, we are connected to both the past and the future. These darkest days of a December offer an opportunity to pause – along with dormant plants and hibernating animals and the rest of nature – to embrace the dark. Even the birds are a little quieter this morning. They know too that brighter days are coming.   

“The long night is over. Let’s look forward now to brighter days and all good things to come,”  last year’s livestream host whispered to millions watching as sunlight flooded the ancient chamber. 

Dawn light began stealing
Through the cold universe to County Meath,

Over weirs where the Boyne water, fulgent, darkling,
Turns its thick axle, over rick-sized stones
Millennia deep in their own unmoving

And unmoved alignment.

(from A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney)

---

From the Latin, solstitium, the apparent standing still of the sun, the Winter Solstice is the turning point I look forward to each year. The day after my daughter’s birthday, it is a lovely mid-winter reminder – a reassurance –  that the light is coming.  I suppose ancient rituals help us keep the faith, not necessarily in a god or in any religious doctrine, that good times lie ahead.

In the Mexican village we call home, such rituals are all around. The legacy of pre-Columbian civilizations can be viewed in a ceremony on the waterfront almost daily – La Danza de  los Voladores. Its origins are attributed to the Totonacapan region of Veracruz, which in 2009 boasted 38 of the 56 volador poles officially recorded in Mexico. First written about in 1612 by Franciscan chronicler, Fray Jaun de Torquemadam, the ritual is a powerful testimony to the tenacity of indigenous groups in adapting their customs and practices to the new order imposed by the Spanish and also in ensuring they live on from one generation to the next.

A handful of onlookers on the Ajijic malecon pause for a moment to watch, smart phones at the ready to record as the voladores, in  traditional costume, begin their solemn procession to a 30m high pole between two trees. One by one, four men climb the pole to reach its summit, where they are closer to the sun god, each of them representing the cardinal points as well as the elements.

All is quiet, and then a haunting melody begins, when the leader, the caporal, hoists himself up to perch atop a tiny wooden platform, the tecomate. Bending, balancing, hopping from one foot to the other, he plays his flute and beats on a tiny drum, turning to face north, south, east, and west, while the pole below him sways precariously in the breeze.  No harness. No safety net. Only faith.

Then the moment we have all been waiting for – the flyers hurl themselves into the air. Headfirst, arms outstretched like wings, they allow the thin ropes tying them to the platform to unravel as they spin in ever-widening circles around the pole, streamers the color of the rainbow trailing behind them in the sky. The plaintive tune continues during their majestic descent, each man hoping to make 13 circuits – 52 representing the number of years on the Aztec calendar – imploring the gods to return the sun. Right before reaching the ground, a final flourish – a quick somersault. Mortals again, they land softly, to quiet utterances of ‘bravo’ from a small group of spectators who know they just witnessed something sacred, something from another time, for all time. Legend has it that if they land on their feet, the Mayan gods will be pleased and bless us with longer days.

Far from the shores of Lake Chapala, in a massive neolithic tomb in Newgrange, Ireland, the Winter Solstice is being celebrated. Last year, for the first time, due to COVID restrictions, anyone with internet access could enter the tomb, a place older than Stonehenge and the Pyramids, and observe the phenomenon  a lottery usually determines who will experience the phenomenon as it was intended by the Stone Age farmers who created it 5,000 years ago. It has attracted sun worshippers and archeologists, ethnographers and tourists, and regular folks like you and me. In the year before the pandemic changed everything, only 16 out of 30,000 applicants from as far away as the United States, were selected to experience the spectacle of solstice at Newgrange. Unfortunately, Irish weather provides no guarantee of sunlight, and clouds  once again kept the light out. But in  in the time of corona, no lottery is needed. As long as they have access to social media, the chamber is open to anyone from Meath to Mexico. In the darkest days of a December, there is a light on the horizon.

In its roof is a little opening aligned to the ascending sun. When that single sunbeam shoots through the roof-box at around 9AM, it illuminates for seventeen minutes the burial chamber below, highlighting the geometric shapes carved in the ancient walls.  It is a magic time, long before clocks and calendars and compasses measured time and the distance between us, signifying the turn towards a new year. It is a time when the ancients speak to us, reassuring us that no matter how dark the days, the cycle begins again.

---

Maybe it’s an act of faith that brings us together to celebrate an ancient light show in a tomb in Ireland or a sky dance above Lake Chapala in a magic village in Mexico. Together, on sacred ground, we are connected to both the past and the future. “The long night is over. Let’s look forward now to brighter days and all good things to come,” whispered co-host of the livestream last year, Clare Tuffy, as sunlight flooded the ancient chamber. 

Knowing the light is up ahead, we too can take a spectacular leap, voladores, arms outstretched, to welcome the new year ahead.